


Absolutely Zero

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Drama, Explicit Language, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-War, Rimming, Second War with Voldemort, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-03
Updated: 2010-02-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Oliver can’t compete with Percy’s job, but Percy has more secrets than he ever understood. Can he bring Percy back from a dark place?





	Absolutely Zero

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for HP_Yule_Balls. Lyrics provided by Jason Mraz

_You. You were a friend. You were a friend of mine I let you spend the night  
You see how it was my fault. Of course it was mine._  
  
May, 1993  
  
Percy Weasley discreetly tucked the textbook he had been reading back into his robes as the whistles blew. He promised Oliver he would watch the match, and now that the insipid pre-game rituals were over, he intended to keep that promise. The cool fall winds blew the unruly curls on his head, and he tightened his red and gold scarf around his neck before clapping politely as the players entered the pitch.  
  
A not entirely welcomed warmth seeped through Percy as Oliver flew a lap around the pitch, making his way to the Slytherin captain to shake hands. He hoped the blush in his cheeks could be attributed to the weather, especially when Oliver winked at him. He gave what he wished was a dignified wave back and settled himself in for another rousing game that Percy knew would be devoted entirely to watching the sinews of Oliver’s athletic body reach and dive for quaffles as he defended his posts.  
  
As with every other interpersonal relationship, Percy never revealed his true feelings to Oliver, or even let any hints slip. To Oliver, Percy was just a very good friend and a confidante. To Percy, Oliver was the one goal he couldn’t reach, the one ambition he would never even allow himself to pursue…the one thing Percy felt he could never deserve. Love wasn’t in Percy’s plan, and Percy felt more than ill equipped to handle it.  
  
Not that he even had a chance anyway. Oliver was a Quidditch star and consummate ladies man, their close friendship already had Percy baffled enough without even entertaining the thought of something more. Percy was resigned and quite content to just watch Oliver’s elegant body from afar, and enjoy whichever smile was reserved for him.  
  
As the whistles blew to signify the end of the match (Slytherin won, though that never mattered much to Percy) he quickly exited the stands and hurried as swiftly as he could back toward the school. The post athletics rush of adrenaline that always followed the end of a match was not Percy’s cup of tea…and he would much rather enjoy the cup of Earl Grey sweetened with a little pomegranate juice that awaited him in his Head Boy quarters than the firewhisky and self pity that would certainly hang heavily throughout the Gryffindor Common Room tonight. Percy spared a single glance back at Oliver, currently surrounded by a gaggle of girls consoling his wounded pride.  
  
A warm breath on his neck slowly woke Percy from a rather embarrassing dream. He had fallen asleep in front of his fire, his Transfiguration textbook left open on his lap and his cup of Earl Grey cold and forgotten. When he got his bearings back about him, he turned his head slightly to find Oliver grinning at him beatifically, still in his Quidditch robes. He should have known it would be Oliver, as that was the one person who knew the password to his private quarters.  
  
“Hey there, bookworm, I missed you after the match,” Oliver said genially, taking the book off of Percy’s lap and setting it on the end table. Percy suppressed the shudder that ran through him as Oliver’s thick fingers brushed along his thigh.  
  
“I found a more productive way to spend my time than to replay the match over and over again while consuming enough smuggled firewhisky to down a hippogriff,” Percy said, his smirk taking away any bite the statement may have had.  
  
“Oh sleeping, aye? That’s productive?” Oliver said, lightly punching Percy in the arm.  
  
“I had intended to study, but I guess the day just got the better of me,” Percy sighed. “You’re not surrounded by your usually cloud of malaise following this loss, are you sure you’re not fevered?”  
  
“Firewiskey,” Oliver whispered, blowing lightly on Percy’s cheek so that the warm scent flowed into his nostrils. Percy had to bite the inside of his lip hard to keep from turning his head and meeting those waiting lips.  
  
“Well, you certainly hold your liquor well, sir,” Percy remarked.  
  
“I’m Scottish, whiskey is practically in my blood, you know,” Oliver said proudly, lounging next to Percy on his small leather couch, his feet going up on the oak coffee table.  
  
“Yes, I know that perfectly well, you remind me every time you drink,” Percy said stuffily, taking his foot and kicking Oliver’s boot clad feet off of his table.  
  
“Oh don’t be such an old man and loosen up,” Oliver said, sliding closer to Percy’s side. “Now why were you sleeping when there was studying to be had?”  
  
“There was an explosion of dung bombs in the dungeon today, and it took all of the staff plus myself and Penelope to get the mess cleaned up. Then, we had to find out who did it and where they got such contraband in that large of a quantity,” Percy noticed Oliver’s face fall at the mention of Penelope, but just chalked it up to his drunkenness. After all, he and Penny hadn’t been an item for nearly a year.  
  
“Dung bombs are hardly contraband,” Oliver chuckled. “But still, that’s a right nasty smell to get rid of.” He took a deep breath, seeming to smell Percy’s hair. “You seem to have done a fine job of it though,” Oliver croaked out.  
  
Before Percy could put himself back together from the shock of such an intimate act, Oliver had fallen asleep, head tilted back over the back of the couch.  
  
Percy took one of his mother’s knitted blankets and carefully covered Oliver. The Keeper could never fail to put a smile on Percy’s face, and despite an attraction that Percy felt would some day rip through him; the friendship was enough to sustain him. He summoned some hangover potion from his washroom (kept on hand for Oliver more than for himself) and set it on the end table with a glass of water. He leaned over and softly kissed Oliver on the forehead, taking the only liberty he thought he would ever be allowed in the secret of a dark room and a sleeping recipient.  
  
))))))))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((((((

((  
  
_I'm too hard at work.  
Have you ever heard of anything so absurd  
ever in your life.  
I'm sorry for wasting your time. _  
  
January, 1997  
  
_Oliver,  
  
I am terribly sorry, but I will not be able to attend your match today. I wish you good luck.  
  
\- Percy_  
  
Oliver tried to keep his cool long enough to give Hermes a treat and send him on his way. As soon as the majestic bird had left his window ledge, Oliver clenched the letter so tightly in his fist that his nails drew blood on his palm. He let out a frustrated growl and kicked his bureau, which immediately kicked him back with its stubby legs.  
  
He hadn’t seen Percy in weeks. At the beginning, he felt genuine sympathy at his mate’s busy schedule. It had been a little under two years since Percy’s first Ministry job ended with shock and disgrace as his employer was found to be dead and imperiused by his outlaw son. Oliver knew Percy was eager to prove himself, and now that he had a new position in The Minister’s own office, he was eager to please as well.  
  
However, after three cancellations, Oliver grew irritated and abruptly confronted Percy at his flat. When Oliver barged in, he saw Percy hunkered over a pile of papers, hands in his hair, and body nearly trembling with stress. After pulling Percy away from his work to get him to sip some tea, Oliver convinced him to take it easy and relax more. He left Percy that night with new weekend plans and bags under his eyes.  
  
After that, though, he didn’t see Percy. Four cancellations later, Oliver was not only angry, but genuinely worried. Percy always had a tendency to bury himself in work, forgetting to eat and even sleep on occasion for the sake of productivity. And if their prior meeting was any indication, Percy was likely working himself to death.  
  
Oliver knew he had to take drastic action to reach Percy now. He had a mid-season break coming up and decided he would pay Weasley Wizarding Wheezes a visit.  
  
((((((((((((())))))))))))))))()()()()()()()()()()()()  
  
A grotesque, almost evil laugh erupted as Oliver entered the shop. Despite it being November, and all the Hogwarts students entrenched in schoolwork, the shop was still packed. Above the mixture people, streamers flew constantly in every color imaginable, signs floated along blinking messages about sales and special offers, and there were at least 20 artistic renditions of The Weasley Twins themselves. There were so many shelves full of so many things that one could barely walk down an aisle without activating something potentially harmful. The shop had only been opened about half a year, but it seemed to be the hot spot of Diagon Alley.  
  
“Well, if it isn’t our fearless leader,” said one of the twins, sauntering over to Oliver with his arms wide.  
  
“Oh captain, my captain!” The other yelled, leaping over the counter and wading through the throng of people to greet them. They both wore glowing nametags, and Oliver was grateful for this.  
  
“We just got in some great Keepers’ gloves!” Fred exclaimed, summoning a bright red package.  
  
“You just nonverbally say the spell,” George instructed as he opened the package in Fred’s hands, “And voila!”  
  
Oliver didn’t see anything at first, the gloves’ limply laying palms up over Fred’s pale fingers. He cautiously moved closer knowing the twins well enough o be wary of a possible explosion. He squinted his eyes and could just see a shiny trickle of syrupy liquid coming from the fingertips of the gloves. Against his better judgment, Oliver touched the substance, and drew his hand quickly away. However, the glove was now fused to his index finger and flung back with him, smacking Oliver firmly in the face.  
  
“Ow! You ruddy cheaters. I cannot use these!” Oliver exclaimed, rubbing his stinging nose.  
  
“Au contraire mon Scottish frere,” Fred said as he wordlessly conjured some half moon spectacles in the absurd fashion of Albus Dumbledore, as George summoned a book.  
  
“According to the official Quidditch rules and guidelines circa 1996, one may not use summoning charms, repelling charms, and charms that would destroy another person or peripheral equipment…I see nothing said of sticky goo,” Fred said, smiling with self satisfaction.  
  
Oliver considered them both for a moment. Their build was so different form Percy’s that if it wasn’t for their hair, a stranger may not even know them for brothers. However, Oliver was no stranger. They had Percy’s deep green eyes, the sort of color that was reminiscent of a fir tree, and ones that seemed to pierce through you with thought. If that wasn’t jarring enough, their skin stretched over their muscular bodies with the same color and texture as the skin that moved over Percy’s long bones. Oliver longed to ghost his lips along the elegant paleness, counting every freckle along the way.  
  
“Oi! Are you going to stand there and drool, or are you going to buy a pair of Keeper’s catchers?” George said, looking bemused. Oliver was grateful that neither of them seemed to notice why he was dazed.  
  
“Aye. They should be a laugh in rehearsals and scrimmages, but I am still not all that sold on wearing them in the ring,” Oliver said, hoping his blush wasn’t noticeable.  
  
Oliver had known he was gay for a few years now, but no one, save for an occasional lover, knew. In school, he fought the concept, not quite understanding himself. But once he signed to Puddlmore, it became clear what he wanted. Ever the risk taker, and a firm believer in living life fully, he dove in head first and never looked back.  
  
Except when he was looking back at Percy. His confidante and mate in school, Oliver quickly realized why he was so drawn to Percy after he embraced his sexuality. He wanted Percy…badly. And in his absence over the past few months, Oliver knew desire wasn’t the only thing. He loved Percy too.  
  
As Oliver made his purchase, George leaned over the counter, and with that same sharp, thoughtful stare whispered, “Now why are you really here? I know you’re on mid season, but I should have thought you’d be home in Scotland by now.”  
  
“I’m worried about your brother,” Oliver said, trying to avoid the two pairs of eyes on him. He thought he saw a flicker of rage ripple over one face and then the other, but it was gone again in the blink of an eye.  
  
“What has Ron done now?” Fred said, his voice still full of charm, but underlying with a sort of detached indifference.  
  
“No, not Ron, why would…”  
  
“Surely Bill is all right,” George said, mockingly aghast.  
  
“I have no reason to believe he’s not. What I mean is…”  
  
“Has Charlie gone and gotten burned up?” Fred said, beginning to go over a ledger absent-mindedly.  
  
“I don’t think so, no. I’m talking about…”  
  
“Unless Ginny has grown a penis, or you have come here to tell us you’re worried about one of us, I fear you are mistaken,” George said, stacking shelves with indifference behind the counter.  
  
“We have no other brother,” Fred said, a slightly menacing glint in his eye.  
  
“What the bloody fucking hell is going on?” Oliver snapped. First, Percy becomes distant, and then cancels all of their plans, and now Fred and George appear to have disowned him.  
  
“Why don’t you ask the Humungous Bighead?” Fred said.  
  
“And while you’re at it, give him thanks for ruining Christmas and making mom cry,” George said gruffly, the characteristic humor gone from his voice.  
  
“What? I can’t anyway, as he keeps avoiding me. I’ve not seen him in forever,” Oliver said, still wildly confused. The Percy he knew would never upset his mother intentionally.  
  
“Well, you should be able to find him in Rufus Scrimgeour’s colon. If you can manage to get up there, make sure he knows that he is a disgusting, vile creature for betraying Harry, Dumbledore, and his family,” Fred practically shouted.  
  
Simultaneously, the twins spelled the sign on their door to read ‘Closed’, informed their customers to leave as they had to close early, and apparated away.  
  
Oliver immediately apparated to Percy's apartment. Part curiosity and part bitter anger was propelling him forward. He never dropped anywhere unannounced, especially not concerning Mr. Must Plan Everything Percy. However, he was so fed up with being ignored, and now even more angry that something serious was going on with Percy and he didn't even know about it, that he didn't mind overlooking tact.  
  
The stately building was hidden in muggle London, only a few blocks away from The Leaky Cauldron. It was a wizarding domicile, so it only appeared to those who possessed magic. Oliver made his way down the shining wet side street until he reached the red brick building. It seemed to sprout up suddenly, like a shoot of plant life, in between two smaller cement establishments. Oliver opened the large French doors and walked up to the third floor. He knocked on the dark oak door and waited for the sound of footsteps.  
  
"I will be there shortly," came Percy's voice from somewhere in the flat.  
  
Oliver was even angrier that Percy was actually home. Percy had indicated that he was too busy to do anything with Oliver, and yet here he was, lounging about at home. Oliver immediately began to wonder if there was something wrong with him, and that just made his anger and impatience increase. By the time Percy answered the door, Oliver had seemed to lose all control over his mouth.  
  
"What the bloody hell is going on?" Oliver asked loudly, letting himself in to Percy's flat.  
  
"What are you on about Oliver?" Percy said, still caught off guard by Oliver's abrupt entrance.  
  
"You're unavailable for weeks, this is the first time I've laid eyes on you in nearly a month, and when I express worry and concern over you to your brothers, they act as though you've killed their best friend!" Oliver shouted. At the mention of his brothers, Percy's body stiffened and his face grew pale.  
  
"I've too much to do to have this argument with you right now, why don’t we meet for coffee next week," Percy said, not able to meet Oliver's eyes.  
  
"You'll just cancel that too," Oliver said impatiently. Looking more closely at Percy, he could see that his normally thin body had gotten thinner. His skin held an unhealthy gray tinge, and his eyes were painfully downcast. Oliver could feel the urge to take Percy in his arms beginning to take over, but knew that would be a terrible way to confess his feelings to his best mate.  
  
"Tell me what's going on?" he said softly, looking directly into Percy's eyes.  
  
"I need to work these long hours! I need to take work home with me," Percy exclaimed, gesturing toward the desk in the corner. It was indeed stacked high with paperwork. "After what happened with Mr. Crouch, I was a fool to all of my colleagues. I need to regain professional respect…it's all I really have," Percy finished, sounding completely defeated.  
  
"It's not all you have. Your ambition has always been one of my favorite things about you, but I don't know why you've always insisted that all you were was your position. You know there's more to you than that," Oliver said, moving closer to Percy.  
  
"No, there's not! What am I beyond my intellect? What am I beyond what I can make of myself career wise? I'm just the forgotten, timid, brainy child in a brood full of extraordinary creatures," Percy said sadly.  
  
"You're not forgotten. I know you for what you are. Yes, you're smart, but you're also kind, witty, and an excellent mate…most of the time." Oliver said, slapping Percy on the back. "Besides, I'm sure your mother sees you as extraordinary."  
  
At the mention of his mother, Percy's face seemed to draw more tightly, and his skin washed over with white.  
  
"She doesn't see me as much of anything right now," He frowned.  
  
"What's going on? Why did Fred and George seem to think you were betraying Dumbledore, Harry and your family?" Oliver asked, growing very suspicious.  
  
"I haven't talked to my family in over a year," Percy said quietly.  
  
"What!" Oliver yelled, making Percy jump. "Why? How did I not notice this?"  
  
"Well, I've done a pretty good job at keeping you at a distance too, haven't I?" Percy said sardonically. Oliver thought back on the past year and realized that he had only seen Percy a handful of times, and they never talked about him. They stuck mostly to Quidditch and work.  
  
"What have you been doing?" Oliver said, finally realizing that his best friend had been slowly changing before his eyes for the past year and it never registered with him.  
  
"Last year, well, I sort of took the side of Cornelius Fudge. I couldn't fathom that He Who Must Not Be Named was back. My parents, and my family, were of a different mindset to put it lightly," Percy started, a sarcastic smirk on his face.  
  
"But he was back, Harry said so! So did Dumbledore! And you have to know now, after what happened in your own Ministry, that it was true!" Oliver exclaimed, hardly believe what he was hearing.  
  
"Well I have the gift of hindsight, and it still haunts me. But back then, well, I needed to make a good impression!" Percy explained.  
  
"Jesus Perce, don't you think that being on the side that is right is better than being on the proper side?" Oliver asked, shocked at Percy's reasoning.  
  
“Dumbledore was getting old, and Harry does have a history of instability…" Percy started, but at the look of anger on Oliver's face, quickly shut up.  
  
"So you went against your family? And why haven't you talked to them since then?" Oliver asked. Sure Percy had made a huge mistake, but he could make amends.  
  
"They don't seem to want me around. It was made very clear that no one missed me when I wasn't talking to them, so now they don't have to pretend," Percy said with haughtiness that disguised a deeper hurt.  
  
"Just go back, tell them you made a mistake," Oliver said, taking a seat next to Percy on the sofa.  
  
"But I don't make mistakes! I can't be seen as a fool! My dignity is all I have; my career is who I am. How would they treat me if I came back admitting I was a fool?" Percy said sadly.  
  
Oliver knew that Percy made no sense. He knew enough about Percy's family to know that they would always welcome him back. The Weasleys were a close group, and regardless of arguments, always remained close. As an only child of a single mother, Oliver was green with envy at seeing such a large, happy family at the train station every year. There was so much affection and good humor that anyone standing near The Weasleys would instantly feel safe and warm.  
  
However, Oliver also knew Percy. Behind that intellectual bravado was painful insecurity that was only barely manageable. A rift with his family would make Percy's self worth go plummeting. Oliver couldn't begrudge Percy for doubting that he'd be welcomed back, or for fearing that he'd be made a fool of. Percy was his best mate, and despite not knowing him like he once did, Oliver knew what made him tick.  
  
"I did go back, at Christmas," Percy whispered.  
  
"Oh aye? Did it go okay?"  
  
"I brought Rufus Scrimgeour, he wanted to talk to Harry," Percy said. "I thought that having the Minister to dinner would honor the family, and he seemed to have taken such an interest in me!"  
  
"It was an interrogation, wasn't it? He was using you," Oliver asked knowingly. Percy just nodded.  
  
"The raw hatred in their eyes at seeing me…I don’t think they'd care if I would have died." Percy whispered. "And worse was mother. She was so happy to see me, unlike the rest. When I saw Scrimgeour immediately seek out Harry alone, I knew what I had done. I couldn't even look her in the eye."  
  
The depth that ran inside Percy always hit Oliver like a ton of bricks, no matter how many times he had witnessed it. Percy's walls were always so firmly up, that when they did come tumbling down, the flood of what was behind them threatened to wash out everything. Oliver sat momentarily frozen watching Percy's long fingers grip at his curly hair, his elbows digging into his knees. Oliver felt his own flood of emotion at the fact that he might be the only person in the world that ever saw Percy in a vulnerable state.  
  
"I'll be here, mate, no matter what you decide to do. You're not alone," Oliver croaked. He resolved to slowly get Percy back to his family, but knew that to force Percy's mind into something it was fighting would end in disaster. The most he could do was offer himself up as a small consolation.  
  
Percy turned a pained gaze to Oliver, is green eyes watering slightly. He breathed in deeply, steeling himself, and blinked away the traces of sadness. Oliver knew the walls were going back up, and mourned the real Percy as he began to disappear. Oliver was struck with the knowledge that he didn't want to watch Percy fade back into cold indifference. Not this time, and not with him.  
  
Feeding off of years of pent up need and covert thoughts; Oliver grabbed Percy's face and kissed his lips with that sort of hard softness that made his kissing style notorious back at Hogwarts. He wanted Percy to stay opened; he wanted to feel Percy beneath him. He wanted to claim all those intimate and unseen parts of the former Prefect for himself.  
  
Percy sat stiffly for a moment, sending waves of panic through Oliver. However, very suddenly Percy's hands were in Oliver's shoulder-length hair, elegant fingers twining into the soft brown locks. Oliver moaned slightly when he felt Percy's tongue run across his bottom lip. He couldn't believe his own body as he felt Percy shift against him. Never in Oliver's wildest imagination did he think Percy would ever succumb to what he wanted.  
  
Oliver pressed Percy's shoulders back until his back met the sofa. He pulled back to look at Percy's face, marveling at the long, sharp angles there, and pausing to look deeply into Percy's eyes…eyes that only ever seemed opened to him. Percy blinked once, a secret smile curling up at the corner of his mouth, and his pale cheeks becoming tinged with pink. Oliver leaned in and began kissing his swollen lips again.  
  
He felt Percy's hardness against his hip, and Oliver let out a moan at the thought that he was turning the red haired wizard on. He lined up their hips and ground into Percy, creating a delicious friction that had them both groaning. Percy thrust his hips up, beginning to kiss along Oliver's neck, and Oliver's fingers found the clasp of Percy's trousers. He felt Percy freeze and pulled back to meet his eyes.  
  
"You don't like blokes," Percy said, it was more a statement than a question.  
  
"I like you," Oliver answered, but even as he did, the haze was lifting from them and the thick steel walls that surrounded Percy's soul could almost be felt coming down hard on what they were doing.  
  
"You should go home," Percy said, sitting up.  
  
"Percy, what…" Oliver started as Percy handed him his coat. Percy turned to look at him, his stiff look masking something deeper, something painful hidden in a place Oliver thought he'd never reach.  
  
"I can't lose you too," He said, shutting the door and locking it, Oliver somehow on the other side.  
  
With heavy legs Oliver took the steps down slowly. He had ruined everything with his impulsive act, and he worried that Percy would be even more distant now. But as Oliver closed his eyes and remembered the fire that had shown brilliantly in Percy's own eyes for that singular, earth shattering moment, he knew regardless of the consequences that it was worth it.  
  
((((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))(((((((((((((((((((((  
  
_Who am I to say this situation isn't great when it's my job to make the most of it?  
How could I ever know that it would happen to me. Not that easy. _  
  
September 1997  
  
  
Percy took a deep breath; his whole chest weighed down with a combination of stress, fear, and guilt, and flushed himself down the toilet. It was absolutely awful, completely disgusting, and the icing on the cake that was his fate. He had remained loyal to the Ministry for so long, that now if he chose to leave, they would see it as suspicious. He could get hurt, his father could get hurt, and worst of all his family could be targeted more fully than they already were. Now, he had no choice but to face the darkness and his own self-loathing day in and day out.  
  
Percy passed by the new fountain, silently scoffing at the "Magic is Might" emblem. He could see the thinning ginger hair of his father bob through the mess of people and moved toward the lift. Percy couldn't leave, and he couldn't speak up. He saw the file on his father and their family's "pro-muggle leanings" and he knew that his family was being watched. Percy wasn’t nearly as stupid as the Cro-Magnon apes that currently ran his place of employment; he knew Ron didn't have spattergoit. However, just how much attention would be drawn to The Weasleys if the one Weasley not being watched all of a sudden took off?  
  
His office was now only a few doors away from one of the main interrogation rooms. Percy tried to think of something else as the begging, pleading, sobbing and screaming wafted into the hallway. The walk to the silence of his office got louder and louder every day as people were stripped of their wands, accused of stealing magic, thrown out on the streets, and ripped from their families. Sometimes, in the direst of cases, the Dementors would be called in to make threats even more real. On this day, the Dementors were standing guard, and Percy could barely function. Percy tried to take a detour around the chilling despair of the dementors, but Yaxley was in such a state about his raining office that Percy thought he would certainly be victimized if he were seen.  
  
"Where is Cattermole? It's bloody raining in my bloody office!" Yaxley yelled as Percy turned around. "Weasley!"  
  
Percy froze, he slowly turned around to meet Yaxley's cold gaze.  
  
"Yes?" he said carefully.  
  
"Yes what?" Yaxley sneer menacingly.  
  
Percy sighed. "Yes, sir?"  
  
"I'll remind you of this once, Weasley. You'll address me with respect, and none of that sarcasm. You're the only one of your family we're not tracking, and don't think for a second I won't go after all of your filthy, poverty stricken siblings! One wrong move…just give me an excuse," Yaxley was very close to Percy's face now, his icy green eyes threatening to burn Percy's flesh.  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it…sir. What is it that you required?" Percy answered, summoning enough steel and stone to keep his face completely impassive, even as his heart hammered in his chest and a lump formed in his throat.  
  
"Conjure up the damn form required to have the weather charms in my office repaired. And if you see Cattermole, tell him to get his lazy arse down here…I don't care what happens to his wife!" Yaxley shouted. Percy nodded and swiftly walked back the way he came toward his office.  
  
When he turned the corner, the Dementors were out in full force, ushering a new batch of muggleborns to remain in line outside of the interrogation rooms. They were cowering, most not even able to stand, and the dark creatures floated above them. Percy could feel the chill beginning to spread over him. He could see his mother, looking at him with pain in her eyes. He could see his family, their backs turned to him deliberately. He could see his own lonely existence magnified and stretching out before him like an endless sea; years upon years of him with only the company of his mind.  
  
His knees began to get weak and Percy fought to find a happy thought to repel the ennui before it managed to eat him alive. He closed his eyes, standing stock still in the middle of the chaos and misery. He thought of strong arms wrapping around him, of soft brown hair between his fingers, of sharp blue eyes piercing into his the way no one else could. The moment he could imagine Oliver's lips on his, Percy's owl patronus came forth strong from his wand and swathed him in warmth and happiness. The feeling of dread and doom were gone.  
  
Percy walked into his tiny office to find an interdepartmental memo hanging above his desk. He opened it and found a ridiculously pink pamphlet attached to it. The cover had a rose with a frowning face being strangled by a weed. In gold lettering, the title read " **Mudbloods and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society** ". Percy snorted, but a sense of foreboding was growing inside of him. He questioned whether he could stand by any longer, when he didn’t believe a word that was being forced down the throats of the wizarding world. If he had to watch one more muggleborn beg and plead for their freedom, for their magic, he might lose the tenuous hold he had on his emotions. He opened the note that accompanied the pamphlet.  
  
_Weasley,  
These are currently being folded and readied to be distributed en masse to the population. Could you please oversee that this operation goes smoothly?  
-Delores_  
  
Percy swallowed hard. No, he couldn't oversee such a travesty, such an awful display of intellectual manipulation. He wadded the paper in his fist, threw it in the bin, and made his way over to the small mirror on his wall. He looked at his face, thin and drawn from his constant internal struggle, and tried to arrange his features into an emotionless mask. When he thought he had succeeded, he left his office and made his way to where the pamphlets were being assembled and sent out.  
  
When he left the safety of his office, it was to a mass of chaos. The preposterous pink pamphlets were flying around his head, almost blocking his view. Some people were shrieking, some people were shouting spells, and everyone seemed to be running.  
  
"Someone is freeing all of the muggleborns!" a disembodied voice yelled.  
  
"Who the hell rendered me unconscious? Where's my necklace?" Umbrige's familiar shriek could be heard from one of the interrogation rooms.  
  
"This has got to be Potter. Somehow, it has to be him," murmured Albert Runcorn.  
  
The possibility that this was Harry's doing didn't escape Percy either. He began to run like mad for the entrance, pushing down people in his wake. His mind was buzzing with the impossibility of the situation. But through all the confusion, one thought was ringing through his ears: "Ron." Surely if Harry Potter was behind this, Ron was with him. Desperation gripped Percy. He just wanted to look at him, to see that he was alive and well.  
  
His father seemed to have the same idea, because as Percy was making a beeline for the entrance, Arthur was running just as fast next to him. They made it just in time to see Yaxley gripping the ankle of Mafalda Hopkirk. It occurred to Percy that it couldn't be Ms. Hopkirk who was trying so desperately to escape. Percy's body tensed as Yaxley disappeared with the not so Ms. Hopkirk.  
  
"Don't worry, they'll have made it if they are all together," Arthur said quietly.  
  
"Merlin, I do hope so," Percy said. They were the first words spoken between him and any of his family in almost a year, and Christmas didn't really count. There was a silence even as chaos continued to erupt around them.  
  
"Father, I don't know how much longer I can hang on," Percy said, even as he was beginning to walk away so as not to arouse suspicion to either of them.  
  
"You'll make it, Perce." Arthur said, turning around and looking him in the eye. "I'm proud of you."  
  
Percy barely made it back to his office before he collapsed into his chair and openly wept.  
  
)))))))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))))  
  
_Hey what's that you say? You're not blaming me for anything that's great  
But I don't break that easy. Does it fade away? _  
  
Normally, coming home wasn't much of a respite for Percy, but tonight, he was happy to be in his warm little flat. After the disturbance at work, a massive inquiry was done, every staff member questioned thoroughly by the highest members of the Ministry, and no employee went unnoticed. Percy had to pretend to be shocked and angered at the release of those dirty muggleborns. He was so disgusted with himself that he could barely finish the day.  
  
He fed Hermes some treats and let him out for a fly, put some tea on to boil, and pulled out an apple tart he had bought from a local bakery the day before. They weren't nearly as good as his mother's tarts, but they at least felt a little bit like home. He was roused from his small, comforting meal by a hard and vigorous knock on his door. He opened the door with no disguise on his impatience only to be met with angry blue eyes.  
  
"Oliver?" Percy said, more than a little surprised. They hadn't spoken since that awkward night in May. Oliver had been on tour all summer, and they had both been avoiding each other nicely, the specter of what they did and what it might have meant hanging above his head like a wonderful and welcome threat.  
  
"What the fucking HELL is this?" Oliver shouted, slamming his fist right next to Percy's head against the opened door. Clutched in his hand was one of Umbridge's pamphlets.  
  
"It's Ministry propaganda," Percy said, meeting Oliver's flushed face. His body was looming over Percy's, his broad shoulders a sharp contrast to Percy's narrow form.  
  
"I know that! What I want to know is, with crap like this, why are you still working there?" Oliver said, his voice still seeping with vitriol and anger.  
  
"You don't understand…" Percy started.  
  
"What I understand is that three of my teammates had to quit and go into hiding! The Ministry wants them to appear!" Oliver yelled, stomping into Percy's flat. He looked both ways to check if he was being watched before he closed the door. He had a feeling even if it was unseen, someone was watching him from somewhere.  
  
"People are being taken from their homes, their wands are being snapped in two, they are being put on the street…and they are even being killed! All for the sake of blood purity. How are you still there?" Oliver was still shouting, pacing Percy's flat.  
  
"I can't leave," Percy said weakly, trying to find the words to explain in the face of Oliver's unforgiving gaze.  
  
"Your sodding career! Your fucking job! You are such a selfish bastard! I can't believe I…" Oliver started, but didn't finish his sentence.  
  
"You what?" Percy said shakily.  
  
Oliver grabbed the front of Percy's robes and slammed him against the wall. Percy knew Oliver wouldn't kill him, but Oliver was a powerful and moody individual. Percy thought it a certainty that he should end this confrontation with some injuries. He welcomed them as self-flagellation.  
  
"I can't believe I ever wanted you," Oliver whispered, his body pressing into Percy's. Oliver had used the past tense, but even as he was still holding Percy in place and his eyes shone with violence, Oliver's erection was pressing into Percy's hips. Regardless of the certainty of injury, Percy couldn't help but feel his own arousal growing at the thought. He closed his eyes and turned his head, trying to shut his body off. The last time this happened, Percy sent him away, thinking that Oliver would soon realize it was a mistake and their relationship would be ruined.  
  
Now, however, everything was already in ruins.  
  
Percy kissed Oliver hard, shoving his tongue into Oliver's mouth and gripping his hair tightly. Oliver kissed him back without pause, grinding against Percy's body with abandon. Just as suddenly as it started, though, Oliver pulled away and jumped back.  
  
"Don't, you fucking bastard. Don't," Oliver whispered, wiping his mouth.  
  
"Ollie, you have to let me ex…" Percy started.  
  
"I don't have to do anything for the likes of a Ministry puppet like you," Oliver spat disdainfully. Suddenly, Oliver raised his fist and hit Percy square in the face. Percy could hear a sickening crack in the vicinity of his nose. He grabbed his face as he fell back, and by the time he had lifted his head from his hands, Oliver had apparated away.  
  
Percy healed his face, but not doing a very good job of it. His nose was still a bit bumpy. And for the second time that day, Percy felt hot tears fall down his cheeks.

 

__________________________

 

_So that's why I'm apologizing now for telling you I thought that we could make it  
I just don't get enough to believe that we've both changed. _  
  
May 1998  
  
The service was exactly what Oliver would have expected Fred Weasley's memorial to be. Everyone was dressed in brightly colored clothing, Weasley Wizard Wheezes products were going off and proudly displayed everywhere you looked, and memories of Fred were like tall tales around tables full fizzing and popping punch bowls and Molly Weasley's sweets. Oliver let one of the best apple tarts he'd ever tasted melt in his mouth as he and Harry talked about what the Quidditch landscape would be in this new era.  
  
Oliver was distracted, but tried not to show it. He looked everywhere but couldn't find Percy. He had a hard time believing that Percy would have missed this. He wanted to offer his condolences to his old friend, as well as try to restore something of the friendship they once had. Oliver couldn't take back what he said or did, and wasn't even sure he wanted to, but he did see Percy fighting on the side of the light and thought Percy deserved at least a few words from him.  
  
Oliver excused himself from Harry with a clap on the back and made to wander around the gardens to be alone with his thoughts. He saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye and turned his attention toward the woods in time to see a curly head of hair bob out of sight. Oliver rushed over to the apparition, eager to at least hear Percy's voice, to know that he was okay. He could see Percy moving with his usual elegance and grace quickly down a worn out trail.  
  
"Percy!" Oliver shouted. Percy stopped, turned around, and met Oliver's eyes. The walls were down again, and the overwhelming pain being reflected in Percy’s deep green eyes shocked Oliver. He reached out, hoping to touch Percy, to comfort him in some way, but he had disappeared completely in the next moment with a 'pop' that shook the silence of the forest like thunder.  
  
A sniffle came from a few feet behind Oliver and he whipped around to see Mrs. Weasley standing there with the same pain-filled brown eyes he had just looked at.  
  
"Oh, Percy!" she cried, clutching a handkerchief to her face. To his credit, Oliver did not try to look dumbstruck as a woman he barely knew sobbed so openly in front of him. However, the truth was, he hadn't a clue how to comfort her.  
  
"Oh Mrs. Weasley, I'm sure he's okay," Oliver said with uncertainty.  
  
"Did he say anything to you?" she asked through her tears.  
  
"I'm afraid he did not," Oliver said, already worried about what that could mean. At his answer, Mrs. Weasley clenched her fists and trying to tamp down her emotion.  
  
"He needs to know," she whispered as she tried to gain her voice back. "He needs to know that it's not his fault."  
  
"What isn't his fault? What does he think he's done?" Oliver asked, letting go of tact to question the grieving mother.  
  
"He was there, at Hogwarts, fighting that night. Arthur had gotten word to him and he had come to fight with us. Fred was laughing at something Percy had said, and wasn't paying attention when Rookwood…he…Oh but it wasn't Percy's fault! I know my son! I know that he thinks it should have been him! I know that he thinks that he deserved to die because he wasn't with us for so long. But he knew he had to stay working there to keep everyone safe. He knew we were being tracked and followed. What choice did any of us have?" Molly was near hysterics now, and Oliver went numb from his overwhelming shock and guilt to offer her his arm in comfort. She turned into him and continued to cry.  
  
"You're his best friend; of course you know there wasn't anything he could do. But Percy, he internalizes so much, holds himself accountable for so much more than he deserves." Molly looked up at him, and Oliver had to turn away at her earnest brown eyes. Yes, Oliver should have known all of this, but he didn't, and for that he had lost Percy forever.  
  
"I don't know if I'll ever see him again, the way Percy is," Mrs. Weasley cried into Oliver's shoulder.  
  
Oliver knew exactly how she felt.  
  
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((())))))))))))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((((((((((  
  
_If all along the fault is up for grabs why can't you have it  
If it's for sale what is your offer, I'll sell it for no less than what I bought it for  
Pay no more than absolutely zero. _  
  
February 1999  
  
The buzz of a recent victory running through his veins, Oliver began the arduous task of searching; as he did in every city he had a match in, for Percy. It had been five months and no one had heard from him since the funeral. Percy Weasley had successfully disappeared. No one knew if he was even alive, though Oliver doubted it. If Percy was dead, he was sure that his own heart would have broken in two from the loss, no matter how unknown it would have been.  
  
This week he was in Prague, and Oliver held a small hope in the knowledge that Percy could speak Czech. He had learned a number of languages for his job with Mr. Crouch, wowing Oliver with the speed and efficiency in which he mastered not only Czech, but Russian and Italian as well. Having already had matches in Moscow and Rome, Oliver had only Prague left before the tour would bring him back to England and his hopes would dash even farther away from him.  
  
Oliver put up signs in all wizarding establishments in every city he visited, did every tracking charm that Bill Weasley had taught him, and asked a random witch and wizard every few seconds about a tall, ginger man with horn rimmed glasses and curly hair. Oliver was in touch with the Weasley Family now, he wanted to do whatever he could to get Percy back, and knew that they were doing everything they could too.  
  
As he walked up and down the wizarding district in Prague, Oliver made it a point to look for a lawyer. He had a new contract with Puddlemore United and he wanted someone to look over it and make sure it was on the level before he signed. Walking among some of the oldest buildings he had ever seen, he noticed a green and gold wooden sigh indicating the practice of 'Ben Bellasmo, Expert in Magical Law' was just ahead. Oliver quickly pulled his shrunken down contract out of his pocket and restored it to its original size.  
  
After telling the kindly old secretary his business, Oliver was waiting patiently for Mr. Bellasmo as she went to give him the particulars of what he sought. He heard a rustling noise to his left, and turned to see a small room, containing a singular table covered in stacks of papers. The person behind the papers was obscured save for the hands that kept reaching out and pulling sheets from on top of specific piles. Oliver marveled at the obvious amount of work such a small practice in such a far off city seemed to have.  
  
"Mr. Bellasmo would be glad to look at it for 35 galleons," the secretary said, Oliver raised his eyebrows at the English Wizarding money. "Oh aye, we are both English." The secretary smiled and began to lead him back to the main office.  
  
"Shirley, can you get me the Konoski file?" came a voice from behind the papers.  
  
Oliver's blood ran cold, and then hot in an instant. He knew that cool, calculated voice anywhere. He could scarcely believe the coincidence and the gravity of what he was being presented with. He had no idea how to proceed, but willed his body to move all the same.  
  
"Just a second Mr. Weasley, I'm just leading a client back," Shirley called to him.  
  
As Oliver sat and watched Mr. Bellasmo read over his contract, he formulated a plan. He wasn't going to risk watching Percy slip from his grasp again, and knew that was just what Percy would do if he knew he was found out. He looked out the frost-covered window and noted a pub right across the street with a clear view. Oliver resolved to cast a few glamour charms and sit by that window until Percy left the office.  
  
Mr. Bellasmo gave Oliver all the fine points of the contract, and made sure he had everything he wanted in there, and in a matter of 2 hours their business was done. Oliver asked to use the loo, and used the time to examine all of the small business. The only way out was through the front door, Oliver was sure of it, unless Percy was planning on leaving through a window. Oliver thanked Mr. Bellasmo, paid Shirley the fee, and pulled the hood of his robes up over his head as he slipped out unrecognized.  
  
Oliver drank butterbeers in the pub across the street, wanting to stay sober so that he could follow Percy without being detected. After a few hours inside the dim establishment, he saw the bright glint of Percy's hair flash before he put on his hat and entered fully out into the cold. He helped Shirley down the steps and locked the door behind Mr. Bellasmo. Percy bid them goodnight, and as his back was turned, Oliver quickly slipped out, cast a disillusionment charm on himself, and followed a few paces behind Percy's quick steps.  
  
After walking a few blocks, Percy stopped abruptly and Oliver dodged behind a bush. He shouldn't have been visible, but he wasn't taking any chances. He had been walking in Percy's tracks in the snow, so there would be no evidence he was there. Percy looked around as though he felt a presence, one of his hands slowly reaching into his robes. Thankfully, a woman and her puppy came around the corner at that moment and Percy's shoulders eased.  
  
"Good evening, Ma'am," Percy said. She answered back in Czech, and he obliged her by following up in the same language. He reached down to pet the small puppy on the head before turning around and going on his way.  
  
As Oliver emerged from the bushes, the puppy began to bark uncontrollably at him. The woman had to pull at the leash to try to control the little mongrel, and Oliver ran past him as fast as he could, trying to keep from making new imprints in the snow. He hoped beyond hope that Percy would think nothing of it and continue walking. Percy stopped for a second and looked back, but just smiled and continued to walk.  
  
When Percy turned into a small, old building, Oliver's heart sank. The building was drab, cramped, and in disrepair. There was a smell of food and musky dampness wafting in the hallways. The numbers on the doors all seemed to be askew in some way. An old, fat man in a stained shirt sat on the stairs smoking a reeking cigar. Oliver couldn't understand why Percy would live in such a terrible place. He could be making so much money considering his skills and ambition. Why was he a lowly law clerk living in a shabby apartment?  
  
Oliver squeezed past the old man and up the steps behind Percy. He placed his key in a door that didn’t even have a number, only a faint outline of '3' where the marker was once nailed. When Percy opened the door, Oliver pushed it open and ran inside. Just as he lifted the charm, Percy drew his wand and sent a stunner straight at his chest. Everything went black.  
  
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_Well neither one of us deserves the blame because opportunities moved us away  
And it's not an easy thing to learn to play a game that's made for two that's you and me  
The rules remain a mystery. See it was so easy. _  
  
"Oliver? Oliver can you hear me?" Percy's anxious voice was calling somewhere far off. Oliver could see a blur of yellow light, brown, and bright fiery red in front of his eyes. He tried to lift his head but was immediately dizzy.  
  
"Percy?" Oliver groaned, his head was throbbing and there was a sharp sting in his chest.  
  
"I stunned you and you hit your head pretty hard when you fell to the floor. Let me heal your head." Percy didn't wait for an answer, and Oliver felt his head and shoulders being lifted up and placed on Percy's lap. Percy smelled of parchment, ink, and tea; that same familiar smell that always brought Oliver comfort and haunted him in his dreams. Percy cast a charm to heal the contusion on the back of his head, and the pain instantly melted away. Oliver attempted to sit up, trying to be more careful this time. Percy kept his hand on Oliver's back to guide him into a sitting position.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry, I didn’t know it was you," Percy said with no emotion. Oliver just nodded, still trying to regain his bearings. "Which brings me to a much more pressing matter: Why in the bloody hell are you here, Oliver?"  
  
"I have been looking for you all over Europe...In every city I play in. Why in the bloody hell did you disappear, Percy?" Oliver said, meeting Percy's deep green eyes.  
  
"That's not your concern," he said, his face remaining impassive.  
  
"Not my fucking concern! You apparated away from me in the woods at Fred's funeral, and no one has heard from you since! Do you have any idea what you are doing to your poor mother?" Oliver said, standing up on shaking legs. Percy had risen with him, and while he kept his features in a tight mask of restraint, his face had turned bright red.  
  
"What business is my mother of yours?" Percy said through clenched teeth.  
  
"Oh I don't know," Oliver started sarcastically. "You are…well you were my best friend! Then your family suffers a tragedy and you disappear without a trace. I've been helping to look for you," Oliver said, his voice losing some of its edge as he looked at Percy's worn face.  
  
"I don't need to be found," Percy said quietly.  
  
"Yes you do, your family wants you back home," Oliver said.  
  
"My family doesn't need to have someone like me around!" Percy suddenly shouted, his face shatter and emotion flooding his features in a torrent of sadness and despair.  
  
"What are you on about? I know what you did. You were there, fighting with them. You stayed at the Ministry because you had to. They know it too," Oliver said, reaching to put a hand on Percy's shoulder. He shrugged away from him quickly.  
  
"You were right, that day you confronted me. I was a right bastard. I deserted my family; I took the side of my own pride over them. I didn’t come around until it was too late to do any good," Percy said, his voice impossibly low and strangled. Oliver couldn't help but look up at Percy's nose. A small bump left evidence of their last conversation.  
  
"No, Percy. I was wrong. I should have listened to you, should have let you explain. I'm so sorry," Oliver said, stepping to him and putting a palm against his cheek. Percy turned away from his gaze.  
  
"It should have been me. I should have died. I left because I'm too much of a coward to kill myself in attrition," Percy croaked out, his eyes closed and his body shaking. "I can't keep making excuses for what I did."  
  
"And you can't keep paying for it, either," Oliver whispered, putting his other arm around Percy. He longed to pull him into an embrace, but Percy's body remained stiff. "Gods, Percy. No one deserves to die, least of all you. Your mistake was small in the grand scheme of things, and you did all you could."  
  
"None of this would matter if Fred were still here. If I hadn't have shown up and made him laugh, he might have seen it coming," Percy cried, and Oliver could feel tears fall on his hand. "It's my fault."  
  
"It's Voldemort's fault," Oliver said, pulling Percy's face in line with his. He locked his eyes on Percy's broken gaze, the yellow glow of the lamps in his apartment flickering off of his glasses.  
  
Finally, Percy's body seemed to melt and Oliver pulled him closely, pressing their bodies together and holding him tight.  
  
"I can't go back, I just can't," Percy whispered, clutching the back of Oliver's robes tightly.  
  
"It's okay, you're okay. We'll figure it all out," Oliver said, pressing his face into Percy's neck. After some time, Percy pulled back and Oliver could see every solitary freckle on his face. His skin was so flushed that it worked as a highlighter, and Oliver wanted to map the distance between each one. He was face to face with Percy. They were both very tall, but where Oliver was muscular and broad, Percy was lithe and lean.  
  
"Listen, Percy, I'm so sorry about…" Oliver started.  
  
"Just stop," Percy said, pulling away. "I deserved it. I deserve everything I've gotten and more."  
  
"Shut up!" Oliver started, making Percy jump and press is back up against the wall again. "Just stop it! You can't fix everything, you can't be everything, and you can't hold yourself responsible for everything!"  
  
Percy's face had paled as Oliver pressed his body against his and into the wood paneled wall. Oliver's breathing had stopped, and he couldn't feel Percy moving at all. Everything seemed to freeze in that moment; Oliver's fires of rage were changing into something that burned more deeply inside of him. He needed to feel every inch of Percy; he needed to know that Percy was there and that he wasn't going anywhere. And most importantly, he needed to bring Percy back to him.  
  
"Oliver," Percy whispered. So many things were written across his face in speaking his name. There was fear, sadness, pain, apprehension, but the most pronounced among them was a raw need. Percy's walls had come down again; just for Oliver, and he wasn't going to watch it all slip through his fingers this time.  
  
Oliver took Percy's face in his hands and kissed him gently, tentatively. He continued to pull his lips away and press them to Percy's until he felt the smallest tilt in Percy's head and knew that he had finally broken through that last wall. He took a deep breath and kissed Percy much harder, pushing his hips and chest against Percy's now pliant form. Percy moaned lightly and threaded his fingers in Oliver's hair.  
  
He took his time, kissing along the pale lines of Percy's jaw and moving down to his neck, Percy's breath hitched in his throat magnificently as Oliver's lips danced along his neck, and he latched on to a pulse point and ran his teeth over the delicate freckled skin there. One of Percy's hands wrapped around Oliver's waist and he ground their hips together. Caught off guard, Oliver's usually smooth demeanor in these situations faded away in a pleasured moan at the friction Percy was creating.  
  
Oliver slipped Percy's robes over his shoulder and started to unbutton his light blue poplin dress shirt. The garment was perfectly starched and completely wrinkle free, most likely an anti-wrinkle charm. He wore it tucked into a pair of smart black trousers, nothing even bunching where his shirt met the belt. Oliver smirked and kissed Percy's mouth again. This was the Percy he remembered, the one he would never forget: this impossibly put together creature that never gave an inch to anyone…but would always give more than an inch to Oliver. A wave of possessiveness washed over him and he ripped at the offending buttons.  
  
"Well okay then," Percy said, smiling warmly. Oliver was even more spurred by that gentle smile; the small curve of Percy's elegant lips that only ever seemed to move in carefully measured ways. This smile was just for Oliver and he knew it. Percy lifted a long hand and ran it down the side of Oliver's face, and he couldn't help but turn into it and press his lips to the palm. He looked into Percy's eyes and still saw the lingering doubt and pain. He knew it would be a very long time before those flashes went away, but Oliver was comforted by the fact that at least finally they could be together.  
  
He kissed down Percy's chest, his lips brushing over each of the slightly pronounced bones of his ribcage. He dipped down to his knees and quickly undid Percy's belt and trousers, exposing black cotton pants…also perfectly starched and pressed. When Oliver reached for the waistband, Percy whimpered and gripped his shoulder.  
  
"Alright?" Oliver asked, concerned he had misread the entire situation and Percy was about to kick him out again.  
  
"I've never done anything like this before," Percy said, with an air of dignity that almost made Oliver chuckle. He was shocked, however, at the revelation that the 21 year old had never been in this situation.  
  
Oliver rose back up and put his hands on Percy's bare waist, "Are you serious?"  
  
"I always am," Percy said his face lighting in bright red.  
  
"Not even…with…a woman," Oliver stumbled on his words, trying to be as delicate as possible.  
  
Percy pressed his lips together and looked off to the side, his ears turning the same color as his cheeks. His jaw trembled a bit under the weight of his own restraint. Oliver gripped his waist more tightly and pulled him closer, nuzzling his neck lightly. He looked up to meet Percy's eyes.  
  
"It's only ever been you," He whispered, his voice trembling with nervousness. His green eyes had grown so earnest that Oliver was lost momentarily.  
  
"This whole time?" Oliver asked, shock running through his body at all the wasted chances.  
  
"For almost half of my life," Percy said a tinge of apprehension in his voice.  
  
"If I would have known…fuck…all that wasted time," Oliver said, his thumbs unconsciously drawing circles along Percy's abdomen.  
  
"Shall we make up for it then," Percy whispered, leaning in and kissing Oliver carefully.  
  
He pulled back and murmured, "Gods, yes," before going back to Percy's welcoming mouth and plunging his tongue inside. Percy really was all his and nothing would ever change that or get in the way of that again.  
  
Oliver resumed his position on his knees, anxious to get Percy out of his pants as quickly as possible. He was so overcome, that Oliver felt like he could actually come at any moment. The sight, smell, and feel of Percy had awakened something inside of Oliver that went beyond any meager one-night conquest. This was more visceral, this was his to experience instead of just something to do. He slowly slid down Percy's pants.  
  
He looked up to see Percy biting his lip, his eyes closed, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Oliver kept his eyes locked on Percy's face as he flicked out his tongue and ran it down Percy's long shaft. Percy's countenance broke and his nails dug into the wall, his head thrown back as he moaned loudly. Oliver used a free hand to grip himself firmly, his erection pressed uncomfortably against his jeans. He wrapped his lips around Percy and had to grip Percy's hip with his other hand to hold him steady.  
  
As Oliver had sunken into a rhythm with his hand matching on himself, Percy had begun to whimper and writhe, letting out a breathless moan that sounded like a prayer on his lips. Oliver could feel his own stomach coil, and had to stop touching himself. He wanted to be inside of Percy too badly. By the erratic movement of Percy's hips, Oliver knew he wouldn't go on much longer. He took Percy deep within his throat, letting his tongue roll across Percy's skin.  
  
"Oliver," Percy breathed, and Oliver felt a renewed sense of electricity. He pulled away from Percy to the sound of a disappointed whimper.  
  
"Say it again," Oliver commanded.  
  
"Please, Oliver, Please," Percy moaned.  
  
Oliver gripped Percy's hips and engulfed his erection. Percy let out a nearly keening cry and burst into Oliver’s mouth. Oliver continued to suck until Percy begged him to stop and fell down the wall, sitting next to him. Oliver pulled Percy into his arms, kissing him fully and letting Percy taste himself on Oliver’s mouth. Percy kissed back languidly but with passion.  
  
Oliver felt chills run up his spine as Percy’s long fingers ran up his shirt and began to pull it over his head. He complied, and once his chest was bared, reveled in the feeling of Percy’s lips going over his bared collarbone. Percy’s hands moved to the buttons of Oliver’s jeans and he could see them shaking slightly, even as Percy’s eyes were closed and his lips continued to dance along Oliver’s bare flesh. He put a hand over Percy’s trembling one.  
  
“We don’t have to do this now, I don’t want you to feel like we’re going to fast,” Oliver whispered, meeting Percy’s eyes.  
  
Percy took off his glasses and placed them on the floor away from them. He smiled slightly, in that way that Oliver knew was only for him, and kissed him softly. “I want to do this, I am very serious,” Percy said, and with a confidence that surprised him, placed Oliver’s hand over his erect cock. “I want to so badly.”  
  
“Bedroom. Now,” Oliver croaked. Percy’s eyes lighted slightly and he rose and began to walk down the short hallway. Oliver was mesmerized by the purposeful and sexy way that Percy walked, and almost forgot to get up and follow his quarry. It was a surprise, and in the same breath not a surprise at all that Percy seemed so comfortable with his body.  
  
Oliver took off his shoes and his bottoms, feeling like one of Percy’s books when he saw the way he was being looked at. Loving that studious look on his face, Oliver couldn’t help but possess Percy again, grabbing his head with both hands and pulling him into a passionate kiss. He pushed Percy back until he hit the large, old bed and Percy froze.  
  
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Oliver groaned, moving one of his hands to Percy’s round arse.  
  
“Oliver,” Percy whispered, letting himself be pushed onto the bed. Oliver began to kiss up and down Percy’s thin, flat torso, loving the flushed look his pale skin possessed. He could feel Percy’s heart thumping in his chest, the tremble in his body, and the quick rise and fall of his breath. Oliver brushed his hand over Percy’s cock, hearing him gasp at the sensation. He continued to touch around Percy’s center, letting his fingers fall downward over his bollocks and into his crevice. Percy’s body stiffened slightly.  
  
“Is this okay?” Oliver asked, not wanting to ruin the perfect moment by scaring Percy into coldness. Percy looked at him and nodded before letting his head fall back to the pillow and relaxing his hands at his sides.  
  
Oliver licked his fingers and let one slowly push into the tight ring of muscle. He felt Percy’s body tense. “Relax,” he whispered in Percy’s ear. “Pull your knees up.”  
  
Percy complied, and Oliver felt him open up around his finger. After Percy began to moan and bite his lip, he added another finger, scissoring them and stretching Percy’s body. When he could add a third finger, and get a thoroughly wanton response from Percy, Oliver knew he was ready, and his body nearly exploded with anticipation.  
  
He sat up onto his knees, running his hands up Percy’s bent legs. He leaned forward and lined himself up with Percy’s entrance, grabbing his wand with his other hand and casting a generous amount of lubrication onto them both. Percy shuddered slightly and Oliver rubbed himself along the cleft of his body.  
  
“I can’t believe I’m looking at you like this,” Oliver whispered. “Finally.” He leaned in and kissed Percy gently before rising up and slowly entering him. Percy’s face screwed up slightly in pain, and Oliver knew enough to not move until he felt Percy relax.  
  
“Okay,” Percy said, and moaned when Oliver began to move in and out of him. Oliver felt the tight heat of Percy’s body contract to hold him, and he knew he wasn’t going to last nearly as long as he usually did. He kept his eyes open to marvel at Percy. He looked like a long, pale angel; his curly locks standing up in messy disarray, his arms spread out to grip the sheets, and his stomach rise and falling quickly with each deep breath he took. He was the most beautiful thing Oliver had ever touched, and he couldn’t help but lean down and press his nose into Percy’s neck.  
  
“I love you so much, Percy,” Oliver whispered, wrapping his hand around Percy’s leaking cock.  
  
“Oh God, Oliver…oh…love you too. I wanted you for so long,” Percy panted, his hips canting up to meet Oliver’s thrusts. Oliver placed his hands on Percy’s hips and dove into him one last time. He came hard, and Percy came with him, spilling over Oliver’s curled hand. It seemed as though this climax was being pulled from him by Percy’s body, and he came longer and harder than he ever had before.  
  
They collapsed together in a heap of sweaty, sticky flesh. Percy grabbed the large quilt and pulled it over them, Oliver resting his head on Percy’s bony chest. Percy was moving his fingers through Oliver’s shoulder length hair as his breath began to slow. Oliver could feel his eyes growing heavy as well, body spent with pleasure and happiness.  
  
“Oliver?” Percy said just as he was drifting off.  
  
“Mmmm. Yes?” he answered slowly.  
  
“Were they really looking for me? Do they really want me back?” Percy said, his hands had stopped moving over Oliver’s head.  
  
Oliver sat up and met Percy’s shining eyes. “Yes. They want you back home, where you belong.” Oliver whispered, putting a hand on Percy’s face.  
  
“Let’s go tomorrow then,” Percy said resolutely.  
  
Oliver smiled, nodded, and promptly fell asleep in the warmth of Percy’s bed.  


 


End file.
